When Two Worlds Collide
by SonicScrewdriver
Summary: Carrie Fisher is the spoilt, bratty Co Head of U.N.I.T's middle daughter. The Doctor, on his own again, is looking for a new companion. When the two meet, will they embark on adventures or embark on arguments? [CHAPTER TWO UP!]
1. IceCream Battles

**When Two Worlds Collide**

Tantrums were nothing new to Carrie Fisher. She had them when she was three, when she was thirteen and now at fifteen years old, she showed no signs of stopping now. Whether it was because she wanted the last slice of pizza, the latest CD or arguing about her bedtime, she had a tantrum and she got what she wanted. It was her way of life, to be honest. Her father worked, all the time. He was the Co-Head of U.N.I.T, an alien organisation. She didn't dabble in her father's work; for she was told to stay directly away. She never asked any questions, nor did she want to. In reality, she thought the whole "aliens" thing was a farce, a legend, rather like the Loch Ness Monster. Her mother thought the same. A simple housewife, she cooked and cleaned the house, looked after her brood of children and always had a hot meal of the table when her husband came home; just what you expect of the Co-Head of U.N.I.T. In fact, right about now, in the Fishers' drawing room, a very important meeting was taking place between Mr Fisher, the US President, the Prime Minister of Great Britain and some more very important people. Mr Fishers' future at U.N.I.T was riding on this meeting going well. He just sat in his seat, said what was needed to be said and hoped that Carrie, or any other the other children, did not cause a scene.

**DOCTOR WHO;;DOCTOR WHO**

"I want it, Mother!" Carrie whined. She wanted her ice-cream, and she wanted it now. Such things in life were frivolous, but at this present time, ice-cream meant the world to Carrie.

"No, darling," her mother replied, somewhat wearily.

"Mother…" Carrie's voice came, a warning for what was to come. Not wanting to cause a scene, within a second the ice-cream bowl landed in front of the fifteen year old, the spoon barely being set in it before it clicked against the side as it hit the table. Smiling smugly, the girl dug in, her mother watching. She was torn between loving her daughter, wanting to give her the world, and making her see right from wrong. It could wait 'til another time, for she could her husband saying goodbye to the guests, and soon the old, heavy wooden doors clanged shut. Footsteps announced the arrival of her husband, and she quickly withdrew his dinner from the microwave, setting it down on the long wooden dining table just as the doorknob turned.

"Thanks, Josie," was the only words spoken while he eat his meal. It was custom, for the Fishers'. Carrie's father never spoke to them unless he needed to, or giving orders. He did not have the love radiating from him that Josie did, although the girls were reminded frequently that even though he may not show it at times, he did love them. There were some pictures around the house, from when they were small, that showed a younger, happier, less grey Johnny Fisher, playing with his daughters on various picnics, outings and in the house. The girls never knew what happened when they went to bed, between their mother and father, but she stuck by him thick and thin, and that's what mattered.

**DOCTOR WHO;;DOCTOR WHO**

It was later, when Carrie was lying in bed, that she heard the noise. It was a wheezing noise, and it was most peculiar to her. She'd never heard a noise like it in her life. It was coming from outside. She sat bolt upright, straining her ears to listen, in case it sounded again. Glancing at her clock, she saw it read 2:05 am, and she knew that everyone else in the house would be asleep. Throwing back her duvet to reveal clotted cream-coloured legs, glad in a short pair of boxers, for it was July. Her top half was in a tee-shirt that had become too small for her – everytime she moved, a thin slice of flesh peeked out from underneath the top.

The window showed nothing out of the ordinary. The streetlamp was lit, making the pavement glow an eerie orange. Carrie peered through the window, nose pressing on the glass that was quickly becoming condensed thanks to Carrie's warm breath, hot and rapid with anticipation. She was disappointed, though, for nothing appeared. She must have imagined it. Shaking her head, she padded back to her bed, her feet barely making any sound on her thick carpet. She had just sat down on her bed when she heard it again. She was reluctant to go, at first. Was it just in her imagination again? Her body soon made its own mind up, as she felt her feet once again touch the thick carpet as she made her way over to the box window. A gasp rose its way up her throat, soon escaping her lips. She was sure, so defiantly sure that that blue police box hadn't been there two minutes ago.


	2. The Doctor's Disastrous Day

**When Two Worlds Collide**

The Doctor's Disastrous Day

The Doctor was not having a good day.

It had started out OK, he mused. He had awoken in his bed, after sleeping for the first time in a couple of weeks. He always liked to say to companions that he didn't need much sleep, and that he could go months without it. In reality, it was necessary for a Time Lord to get at least one good night of sleep a week. His breakfast had been fine, simply toast and marmalade and a good cup of tea. He'd felt better after that. Combined, a good sleep, a warm shower and breakfast had made him feel better than he had in a while.

Crossing his legs at the ankles, he noticed a lace of his Converses was hanging out. So that's what he'd tripped over when he'd made a stop to a Tesco's in 2031. Milk was always in short supply on the TARDIS, and he had to make frequent stops. It was a source of embarrassment and humiliation, when he'd stumbled over something unknown to crash into the Bolognese sauces, causing them the come down to the floor with a bang that turned everyone's heads, in his direction. After quickly paying for the milk, he walked out of the store with his head held high despite the Bolognese sauce that was all over his trench coat, suit and hair. The TARDIS hadn't been far away, luckily, but even then he felt the sauce drip from his hair and start a fresh path down his left cheek. Stares accompanied him all the way back. After his second shower of the day, he thought he'd go visit his friends on Tragaon. Nice people, they were. Looked like humans, even though instead of 70 water they were made of 70 slime.

He knew there were swamps in Tragaon – he just didn't count on the TARDIS landing in one. Covered head to foot in Tragaon slime, he walked through the TARDIS, ignoring her protests of having thick, gooey, fluorescent pink slime wiped all over her. Another shower later, he was unsure of what to do.

**DOCTOR WHO;;DOCTOR WHO**

The TARDIS really was getting sick of this. It was what – his fourth shower? – even she couldn't clean suits as fast as he was going through them. He really did have to be more careful.Reckless really didn't tie in with time travelling. But the TARDIS did what she always did; she took him places, and he loved her unconditionally in return.

Even if he could be a right arse at times.

**DOCTOR WHO;;DOCTOR WHO**

While the TARDIS was musing about the Doctor, the man himself was being cleaning the florescent pink slime he'd managed to get all over the console room, and the path leading to the shower room. Who knew Tragaon slime was so hard to clean? He was sure he'd spent the last hour scrubbing on his hands and knees. God, he was going domestic, wasn't he? On that thought, he abandoned cleaning, rocking himself onto his toes before standing up, his muscles groaning from lack of movement. Shaking his legs to get the blood circulating again, he punched in some random coordinates for somewhere in London and waited. Ten seconds later he was back again, rubbing his head thanks to exiting the TARDIS only to find she had landed him next to a brick wall, in revenge for getting pink slime all over her. He said a quick, heavy sarcastic "thanks" before setting the coordinates to somewhere nearby. After pushing his foot out the door to make sure no walls were there to welcome him, his Converses only met thin air and sure enough so did his body when he fully exited the time travelling machine. He heard a small noise, and whipped his head up quickly; in the house in front of him, he saw a figure, just a silhouette in the darkness, back away from the window slowly.

**DOCTOR WHO;;DOCTOR WHO**

A man. A actual man! She couldn't believe it. How could a man, a human being, step out of the box? It had just appeared out of nowhere! It was impossible. Even though she didn't like to admit it, for once in her life Carrie didn't know something that she wanted to. Intrigued, she pulled on jeans over her boxers and pulled on a baggy sweatshirt, and slowly walked downstairs, conscious of everyone else sleeping. Pulling a hair band from her wrist where she'd left it earlier, she pulled her red hair into a side ponytail. Crudely done, but it would have to do. She found that back door unlocked, strangely. One of the maids must have forgotten to lock it when she had left. It was a good thing she was going out, for she would lock it when she returned. After clambering over the side gate, she was face-to-face with the blue box she had just seen appear from her window. The man himself was in fact walking down the road, his shoes barely making a noise against the road.

She followed him, trying to mask her footsteps they way he was. Her sapphire eyes quickly adjusted to the increasing darkness, and she could see the silhouette of the man turn the corner at the bottom of the street. She followed him, turning around the corner only to bump into him, literally. She took a few, hesitant steps back and looked warily at him, as if she thought he was going to disappear, or worse before her eyes. He looked at her, before opening his mouth to speak, before taking a second look at her in the streetlight.

"Well, I – wait, you're ginger! I've always wanted to be ginger! What's it like, being a ginger?" the Doctor queried.

"My hair," Carrie said, in dangerously low tones, "Is.not.ginger. My hair, is red, thank you very much."

"Sorry," the Doctor said, not looking sorry at all. "Can I ask, why were you following me?"

"You came out of a box. A box. You, came out of a box. In my street. A police box in my street! Who the hell are you?" Carrie finally found her voice. She wanted to know who he was, and right now. It wasn't everyday that you saw a blue police box appear out of thin air, with a fully grown man exiting it as if he did it everyday.

"Yes. I did, didn't I?" he said, the humour evident in his voice. He rubbed his ear, actually finding the girl's blabbering quite funny. "Walk with me," he said, holding out one arm to lead the way.

Carrie fell into step beside him, looking him up and down. He dressed like nothing she'd ever seen; a suit, tie and all, with a trench coat? And Converses? She'd never owned a pair in her life. She hadn't had the option, either. Being home schooled by private tutors meant that Carrie only had her two sisters to count as friends, and hadn't been shopping in several years. Her mother bought all her clothes for her, and they were all the same thing. Bootleg jeans, fitted tee-shirts, and zip-ups. The sweater she wore was actually her fathers. She had never been out of the house in jeans before; actually she hadn't been out the house in a good while, except for picking fruits from her garden with her sisters.

"So, what's your name?" the Doctor asked, breaking Carrie's trance. She looked up at him, before swallowing heavily.

"Carrie," she said, not about to give him her second name (he could be a serial killer for all she knew) and looked expectantly at him. "And yours?"

"The Doctor," he said, a smirk already gracing his lips. He was certain what the response would be. Something along the lines of: 'What_? First name The, second name Doctor, is it?' _It never ceased to amuse him that people actually thought his first name was The.

"OK," Carrie said, smiling. She held her hand out to him, obviously for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Doctor,"

He was taken aback, to say the least. "Isn't that name a bit strange to you?" he asked. Had this girl heard of him before? He did recognise the girl vaguely from somewhere. Nevertheless, he grasped her warm, small hand in his and gave it a firm shake, which she returned – not the lame, fishtail shake he'd been expecting.

"Yeah," the girl said, shrugging her shoulders, "But I've heard stranger," she added, when he looked at her. She had, indeed. Her tutor that had taught her when she was seven had been called Joahsahfanye. Needless to say, Carrie had only called her Joah or 'Jo' while she'd taught her.

The Doctor smiled, then muttered, "OK then," and set off at a brisk pace, making Carrie almost break out in a sprint to keep up with him. He suddenly stopped, with an exclaimed "OH!" So did Carrie, though she was a few steps in front of him. "Nice to meet you too, Carrie!" he said, his grin boarding on manic, before he set of walking again. Carrie shook her head. Already, she could see he was the kind of man that did that. She ran after him, nevertheless.

**A/N : Got the whole "you, a box. You, In a box. In my street!" thing from when Martha was talking to the Doctor and Jack about his hand in a jar, in **_**Utopia.**_** Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


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